Soul Trading for Beginners
by Vampire Catfish1
Summary: Yao is lost when his billionaire father suddenly dies, leaving him to protect his brother, Kiku, and fend off relatives who only have eyes on his fortune. But when an odd man going by the name of Arthur claims he is his rightful guardian and drags them back to his dark and dingy home, his entire life is about to change. Demon!England(more info inside)(Sequel to The Price of Pride)
1. Prologue

**A/N:** So, to start of, here's a very short prologue, which happens before 'The Price of Pride'. If you want to know what Arthur's 'office' looks like to get a better picture of where this is going down, you can read it here - just add in the fanfiction site web address before this - /s/8897374/1/The-Price-of-Pride (it can also be found under My Stories)

I'll be describing it again at some point from Yao's POV, but I wanted to keep this as short as possible.

Anyway, hope you enjoy :)

Please check out the poll on my profile.

* * *

"I believe I made it clear our contract has now been terminated." He glared as he kicked back off his desk, swinging on his chair.  
"Please." The fat balding man was on his knees. He was pathetic; there was no other word for it. Tears streamed down his podgy face, his bulbous nose red as he snorted back runny snot. His suit was falling apart, large round stains pooling out from his armpits, around his throat, and across his crotch. "Please, make another deal."

"You have nothing to offer me."

He raised his watery eyes. It was what Arthur thought a puppy would look like if its kind owner began to kick it for no reason. He sneered; he had no use for people such as this. "I-" he paused to give a gasping sob. "I have a son."

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Oh, you do? And?"

"W-Would you accept him?"

"Age?"

"T-Two."

The nerve of some people. What use would a two-year-old soul be? It was too fresh, and had had no time to ripen and be worth anything.

"If I remember correctly, he is your only blood relative."

He nodded, his sausage-like fingers clamming together with hope.

_Liar_, Athur's instincts told him.

"And if I said yes…" His eyes lightened. Arthur couldn't believe he was doing this. "You would be willing to give him to me?"

He nodded fervently. "Of course. Anything."

Arthur sighed, reaching an arm back into the shadows, quickly pulling forth a blank contract. Rocking forward, he swiped a quill from his desk. He hated writing with the bloody things, but the humans seemed to like watching him write it out. Why couldn't they just be satisfied with a bloody printed form?

It took only minutes to draw up a contract that would transfer all rights of the son and his soul to Arthur... Well... To Arthur's business at least...

He would wait, let his soul mature before he took it. If he could take his spirit, which held the energy of all his past carnations, that would be a whole other story, but his master was a tight bastard when it came to these things, always insisting that he had to follow the rules and take only what he was allowed to take. _Anyway_, he thought, looking at the slobbering mess before him, _the man must only have a few years left._

Even if he wasn't mature by the time he got him, he could still push the boy, making him achieve his maximum potential so he could get a better deal in the end.

He kept his face straight as he slid the contract, a fresh white quill and his dark-jewelled letter opener (a present from his teacher) towards the man.

All he really needed was a few drops of their blood splattered anywhere on the paper, but for some reason the humans felt more comfortable if they signed the contract on the dotted line. He didn't understand why, but the method of having them sign in blood made it far easier to convince them to sign over their souls, so he didn't complain.

"Thank you," he kept repeating every thirty seconds. The moron didn't even glance at the details before willingly slicing his finger open. He was so eager that he had made the cut too deep, and it would most likely need stitches.

Arthur closed his eyes, taking in the familiar smell of blood as the first drop of blood hit the paper, sealing the deal. He smirked, unseen by disgusting human sobbing before him. "You'll have everything you want within the next week."

"Thank you! Thank you so-"

"Leave!"

The man straightened, whimpering, and ran, his fat bottom waggling with joy as the decaying door slammed behind him.

Arthur sighed, cursing what some people might have called his kindness. How he was going to explain this one to his master, he had no idea. He just hoped that the son had a bright future planned for him.

* * *

Arthur - England

**A/N:** This fic is going to revolve mostly around Yao as he starts to discover more and more about his guardian, but will alternate between Yao and Arthur's POV. America, Prussia and Japan will also be recurring characters, and France, Canada, Russia, Scotland, Rome, Germania, Spain and Romano (thanks to RavenAndRobinLover for the suggestion for those last two) will appear at some point. I'll put in a list of who's who at the end of every chapter, just in case you forget

I'm planning on making this very long, with lots of tie off stories (I already have a Franada one planned that will pop up somewhere within the next 10 chapters and then will be made separate, taking on a life of it's own, as well as a Spamano one brewing - and you may have already read 'Just Another Day at the Office' (you'll see how that ties in later on in the story :P) with Prussia and Hungary) but hopefully that won't deter you.

A heads up - There is no planned romance between Yao and Arthur at this point. The only planned pairings so far are Franada and Spamano (and maybe USUK depending on how the story goes.)

(Thanks again to my beta reader, The Maid of Autumn :D )


	2. Chapter 1

A list of the planned characters is at the bottom (though I'm not saying what they are quite yet :P )

Please check out the poll on my profile.

* * *

**15 Years Later**

Arthur always hated graveyards. Hundreds and hundreds of bodies lined up next to each other like empty sweets wrappers, each with their own individual mark so that their loved ones could come and relieve their past through crying and flowers.

He understood that humans needed to grieve, but they wasted so much space. Why couldn't they see that it was much easier to burn their bodies, cast the ashes somewhere and move on? They never kept the rest of a cow after they'd extracted the meat they needed, so why should it be any different with a dead human?

It was even creepier when they kept the ashes in a weird kind of jar and displayed them somewhere in their own home.

This one was particularly gruesome. It had all the usual effects that standard graveyards had, a neat grid-like pattern of gravestones, soft grass and gentle weeping willows that creaked and swayed in the wind, as well the occasional sprinkler here and there that gave the place an eerie feeling of a serial killer's front garden, but this graveyard had an added bonus of catering only to the rich.

Among the headstones, high up in the boughs of the trees sat security cameras that never slept, and outside the occasional family tomb that dwarfed all the other graves sat bored guards in black suits and thick glasses, who repeatedly lowered their newspapers to get a better look at the current proceedings of the day. All the stones were sleek marble, either deep black or grainy white, with pure gold used to write the names of the dead upon them. Everything about the place was a display of money, and it was obvious by the few gleaming graves with mountains of offerings and cards that the occasional few had been slipping the caretaker favours for a favour.

A large, ridiculously shiny church sat at the far right of the plot, near the main gate so that any of the fat, rich businessmen that had to take time out their busy day of stealing and golfing did not have to walk too far from their cars, which were pouring out of the car park next to the church and onto the street outside.

"What the hell are _you_ doing here?" He looked to his right with a bored expression to find a silver-haired, red-eyed reaper storming towards him. He didn't bother moving from his position against the tree that leaned against the spiked fence, as it gave him a perfect view of everyone entering the church for the funeral proceedings.

"Ah…." _What was his name again?_ "How are you?"

The reaper glared as he stopped before Arthur, tensing in his ridiculously casual t-shirt and stone-washed jeans. His unkempt hair hid most of his pale face, leaving only a thin nose and cracked lips for Arthur to see. "Fuck off," he snarled.

"Ouch…Bit harsh," Arthur replied,

"Why can't you just tell me whose souls you've taken?" Arthur shrugged, jostling his umbrella.

"Do you know how much paperwork I have to do?"

"No," Arthur replied, knowing it would annoy this local reaper.

"Tons!" he snarled. "You seemed to have scalped every soul in this district."

"Not every soul…" The reaper growled at him as Arthur trailed off. "Anyway, you still have the spirit. It's not like I'm stealing that," he said, slightly wistfully.

The reaper ignored him as the hearse pulled up, followed by three sleek limos, and, to Arthur's amusement, a horse-drawn carriage. A gaggle of impeccably-dressed mourners elegantly rose from the cars, all eyes focusing on the youngest of the funeral-goers.

"Why are you here anyway?"

"The boy." He pointed to the small figure that stumbled out of the carriage, tripping on his ill-fitting shoes. He was one of the few in the bone yard that actually looked vaguely mournful, only to be bettered by his little brother, who was sobbing furiously and wiping his nose on his sleeve. If he remembered correctly, the boy should now be seventeen, which would make the boy's sibling- the offspring from a whore their father hadn't known he'd impregnated- around fifteen.

"You took his soul!?" The reaper was furious. Arthur sighed, not looking back at the reaper, his eyes focused on the boy.

"Sort of."

"How dare you!? You disgusting thief! How low do you –"

"Hey!" he snapped, turning to the flinching reaper. "I have my job, you yours. No one said we had to get along, or even interact." He flicked a look to the door of the church, lowering his voice as he noticed they had caught the attention of some of the already-bored mourners. "You say your job's hard? How do you think I feel?"

"You're a demon! You don't feel!"

"Moron. Have you even looked at my Dial*?" The reaper's eyes slowly slid to the small, hovering digits above Arthur's head. They widened, his mouth dropping slightly as he saw it.

"You're-"

"Yeah. So don't go talking shit about my feelings, mn'k?"

He walked off, leaving the stunned reaper to stare in awe and wonder why someone such as himself was stuck on earth making shitty soul deals with greedy humans. Really, though, all those years and he hadn't once checked to see what kind of demon had been ruining his career?

He tutted as he sailed into the church, ignoring the scowls and intrigued looks from the mourners. Most thought he was being disrespectful, but he could see a few hungry eyes trying to work out if he was some new celebrity trying to make a splash with his 'out-going' attire.

To be honest, he was surprised the fat bastard had lasted another fifteen years. His stupid kindness had gotten in the way and so, feeling sorry for the boy, he let the father live out his natural life. He had planned on killing him two years ago, when the boy had turned sixteen, but it was around that time that Jones had started interfering with his life, and he was too caught up with idea of a broken soul to actually make an effort to leave his home for something that could wait.

The boy was almost eighteen, far too late to push his spirit energy. There was really nothing more he could do than take his soul now and let it be done with. Arthur would need to check and see what Fate had in store for him, if he could be bothered. He sighed as he took his place at the back of the room. He had really had gotten the short straw with this deal.

The boy's brother could be a problem as well. It might result in unneeded guilt that could plague and irritate his sleep pattern for a few weeks if he left the brother to fend for himself.

Well, no matter. He would deal with all that when he got to it. For now he just had to endure the two hours of pointless, forced blubbering while various members of his 'family' stood and lied about what a great man he was.

* * *

***** A set of digits containing three pieces of information: the date your soul was conceived, what your soul is worth and how long you have left to live. They can only be seen by reapers, and your Dial vanishes when you make a trade with a demon. (I might expand on Dials and stuff, but right now, I've got too much planned for this to add anything else.)

Arthur - England  
(And the reaper is Prussia, in case you didn't guess :P )

If you want to see what Prussia was doing around 10 years go, 'Just Another Day at the Office' will suffice :P (I'm also considering on expanding on this one and writing about Prussia and Hungary's years together between 'Just Another Day at the Office' and 'The Price of Pride', but that would be in the very, very far future (and very angst-filled as well...))

Also, in case you were wondering, I deliberately didn't describe what he was wearing, and I am probably never going to give the city they live in a name.

Hope you enjoyed :)


	3. Chapter 2

Yao hated churches. He never understood why people felt the need to visit a cold building for two hours every Sunday morning just to prove their love to God, but his father had claimed it was important that they be raised with religion.

He wasn't stupid. He knew his father only dragged them along every single week because the church had become a prominent place for men to do their business while their wives tried to save their souls.

He was pretty certain that Kiku believed everything the Bible said without question, which was often why Yao found himself comforting his brother as he sobbed into his chest while the priest read out sermons of how non-believers would burn in hell.

It was almost depressing how well he knew the main chambers. Years and years of boredom as his father made 'connections' had Yao studying the various windows, the wall decorations and the morbid bodies of the wooden saints that hung up in the eves, staring down upon them all.

Whoever had designed the place had tried desperately to make it as rustic but fashionable as possible. Everything was either glazed wood or pure gold decorations. Underneath the heavy stench of lilies, which had been placed in neatly arranged bunches at the ends of every pew, was the lingering smell of sweat and leather, and the cured ceiling, painted with endless scenes of God's miracles, made even the smallest mumble echo with a hum. And the grandeur of the engraved organ that sat behind their fathers coffin was almost sickening. Everything about the place was a display of power and money, and the biggest donaters would sit in the front pews and quietly discuss whatever they needed to, the sounds of the organ conveniently drowning them out.

But he really couldn't care less for any of it. He had only booked the place because he knew his father wouldn't want his 'mourners' to have to travel to somewhere unfamiliar and get lost, therefore not making an appearance (or even just arriving late) which would be talked about in at least three of five large papers in the city. The photographers and reporters had already made their little huddle in the back, flashes going off every now and then, the priest, who was not used to such attention due to a privacy clause in his contract, grinning every time he heard the click of a shutter. Yao had allowed them inside on the condition that they would not disturb anyone until the formal event in the hall adjoined to the church, where they could interview everyone as they pleased and report back on who was wearing what.

The coffin sat at the front of the room, open, their father embalmed in such a way that, if anyone hadn't known him, they would have thought of him as a kind man who was taken before his time. Yao and Kiku stood to the left, shaking hands with people and accepting condolences before they moved towards the coffin to say a final goodbye to their father. Yao kept a tight arm around Kiku, who sobbed into his suit and only raised his head out from under Yao's arm for people he actually liked.

"He was a great man." The woman, some distant cousin or other of their step-grandmother twice removed who looked like a vulture in drag clasped Yao's hand as he offered it for her to shake. Her steady hands and sharp eyes gave her away. She was the same as the others; money-grabbers, only interested in their fathers fortune, which was now solely his. "Where do you two plan to live?" Their father hadn't even been buried and she had already started to make their move. Did she really have no respect for the dead?

"We were thinking of just staying in the house. The maids are there, and..." He trailed off, hoping that it was enough to get her to back off. A small flicker of annoyance passed over her face before she relaxed into a soft smile and put her arm around them both and pulled them close.

"If you ever feel lonely in that big, old house," She said softly as she pulled back, suddenly calm and kind, throwing Kiku a wan smile as he peeked out, shocked at the sudden contact, "you could always come and live with us." He wanted to groan. He had never met the woman in her life, and, going by the way she was ignoring the three impeccably dressed children that had sat with her during the service, she probably couldn't handle an extra two teens on her hands.

"Thank you for your kind offer." If there was anything good his father had taught him, it was how to fake sincerity. He bowed to her before she moved on, making Kiku do the same, keeping back a scowl as he felt Kiku trembling beneath his hand, and not just because he was still quietly sobbing. If she had made even the slightest effort to get to know them when their father was still alive, she would have known that Kiku hated being touched by anyone other than Yao, their father and a few of the maids.

And then the woman was off, satisfied with the answer as she went to say goodbye to their father, the glum children and her husband trailing behind her. She was the best so far, going as far as to break down in tears and howl over his coffin, asking '_Why? Why did you have to leave us?_'. Yao almost smiled at that. If there was anything the interested him about people, it was their ability to lose all dignity when large of amounts of money were involved.

He closed his eyes, sighing as he turned, offering his hand to the next stranger, another chubby businessman who no doubt had sweaty palms, when a figure slid between the two, causing Yao to baulk instantly. His eyes widened as he looked at the man before him, stunned.

He was dressed almost completely in white, from his old-fashioned flares to the blazer that wrapped loosely around his shoulders, done up by a single black button. His wore a blood red shirt, making the white even more vivid and his skin seem paler than it probably was. Black shoes tapped softly against the wine coloured carpet they stood on. A navy blue handkerchief peeked out of his breast pocket, and on his head sat a black top hat, a thin red ribbon adorning the rim, it's tails falling and resting against his dusty-blonde hair.

But the most peculiar thing about him of all was the umbrella that was propped upon his left shoulder. It was horribly bright, the sharp red, vivid blue and stark white of the union jack gently blending together in a showy swirl as he spun the cracked wooden handle of his umbrella between his thin fingers.

He looked hilarious and smart at the same time, and completely inappropriate for a funeral. A smile tugged at Yao's lips as he met his eyes. They were the most amazing shade of green he had ever seen, almost violently intense and looked wise beyond the thirty years the man seemed to be.

Removing one hand, halting the twirling, he softly slid it into Yao's, holding his gaze as he shook his hand. "Arthur." He said in a smooth voice.

"What?" Yao said before he could stop himself, almost glad that his ridiculous clothes were easing his tension. "No second name?" Arthur's eyes sparkled.

"Not currently." He chuckled. _A private joke? _Yao wondered as he gave him a quizzical look and waited, knowing from Kiku's hushed snuffling that he watched him too.

"Don't you know it's bad luck to open an umbrella inside?"

Arthur laughed lightly, as if Yao had suggested the impossible. "I would be grateful if Fate payed that much attention to someone like me."

He tilted his head in amused confusion, but before Yao could question what he meant, Arthur flashed a grin at Kiku, causing his brother to flush and hide back under Yao's arm "Well..." he said, flicking his eyes briefly to the coffin before smirking at Yao "Have fun." He removed his hand, tipping his hat before gliding away, his umbrella bobbing with each step.

Both brothers watched him go, curious and confused by the odd man. He stopped before the coffin, but not once did his eyes fall to the body within, instead looking directly above it. A harsh smile formed, marring his features as he began to speak. "You held out longer than I thought you would, you fat bastard. Just consider the last two years as a bonus, because the hell you're going to -"

But before Yao could hear anymore, his hand was being tugged and he was forced to turn his attention back to the next fat man in line.

After two minutes of placating him, telling him that Yao would definitely turn to him for help if the need ever arose, he felt a light tug on his arm. "Yao." Kiku's voice was a soft whisper as the fat man walked off. "Who is that?" He said, pointing to Arthur, who had now seated himself in one of the pews and was flicking through a Bible, laughing quietly to himself.

Yao could barely hear Kiku's voice, but he didn't care. Kiku hadn't spoken since their father died, so racked with grief that Yao had spent his every waking hour with him, coaxing him out of his room. It had taken nearly a week before Yao was confident he could leave Kiku alone for more than an hour without him becoming terrified of being left alone.

"Don't worry about him, Kiku. He's probably one of fathers _other_ friends."

"_'Other'_ friends?" Yao just smiled and stroked his brothers hair. Kiku may almost be a legal adult, but there was no way Yao was going to shatter his illusions about their father quite yet.

* * *

Arthur - England  
Yao - China  
Kiku - Japan

**A/N:** Sorry, I kind of turn Kiku into a wimp. Though, he's been very pampered all his life and never endured any hardships so far. Don't worry, he'll get better in time ^^

Aaaaand, sorry it ended sort of abruptly~

Also, if you can correctly guess what I mean by 'other' before I bring it up I'll, er... Write you a one shot? Something like that :P

The next chapter will be rather short (I think...) and I haven't actually got the one after that planned/written out, so it may take a while for it to come out.

Also, if any of you are following 'Heroes Don't Die' or 'Pandamonium', I'm doing my best to get the next chapters out tonight :)

Please check out the poll on my profile.


	4. Chapter 3

"We are your closest relatives." Yao's aunt said, her hand snaking forward and grasping his. "You should come live with us."

"But!" Their something-or-other uncle cut in. "We have been devoted to their raising from birth." He highly doubted that a single printed Christmas card addressed to both Yao and Kiku with the picture of their 'beautiful' family counted as being 'devoted', but it was more than anything any of the others in the room had done.

They all sat around a large table, Yao and Kiku placed on the left of the family lawyer while various family members ranging from their father's half-sister to an Indian man Yao had never seen once at the vast family gatherings who just stared and smiled at them. Their father hadn't specified who out of the many relatives he had which one he wanted to care for them, and so it was up to Yao to decide where they would go.

If Yao had despised his father before, it was nothing compared to now. He couldn't believe the man had left a long will listing everything he had and what went where but didn't mention one thing about Kiku. He didn't care about where his own flesh and blood went, as long as his possessions were safe.

If he had only died three months later, when Yao turned eighteen, then he could legally care for Kiku and none of this would have happened.

The relatives had been arguing for what must have been half an hour, trying to make their case to Yao, some even begging him to go live with them. He sighed again as he stroked Kiku's hair, which seemed to be the only thing from keeping him screaming at them to leave them alone.

It wasn't him they wanted, and it never would be. They all saw how his father treated him, and took exactly the same attitude so as to not lose favour with his father. They ignored him, slighted him and some would randomly lash out at him if he so much as walked past them in the presence of his father.

It was the money they wanted. For some reason, his father had left everything he had to Yao, from the sprawling mansion that took up what Yao suspected to be half the city to the tiny one cent his father found as a boy and had kept because he had believed it to be good luck.

It was all Yao's, and whoever became his guardian would be the legal caretaker of that money until he turned eighteen, free to sell anything and withdraw as much as they wanted from the various banks and offshore accounts.

It had quickly escalated to them screaming at each other across the table as the lawyer tried to placate them, but they were vicious and heartless businessmen, and he stood no chance against against them, no matter how much of a shark he claimed he was.

They were thankfully silenced as a loud rap came from the doorway. All heads turned to find the man who had called himself 'Arthur' leaning against the frame, his umbrella twirling in one hand and the other wrapped around his chest, a soft smirk gracing his lips.

"Who are you?" Yao's aunt snapped, far too tense to be dealing with some freak in white.

Yao used the distraction to wrench from his arm from his aunt's grasp as Arthur floated into the room. "Ah…I do beg your pardon" He said, closing his umbrella and daintily seating himself in one of the free chairs. He crossed his legs, resting the umbrella on top of them and clasped his hands together, using them to hold the umbrella in place. "I am the legal guardian of this young boy." He gave a slight nod towards Yao, his eyes twinkling in what seemed to be amusement.

Silence was all that followed as the whole room bar the lawyer was in shock. "Excuse me?" The lawyer said eventually, the first one to recover. "I have heard nothing of this." Either had Yao. Though his father never talked to him, he was sure he would have mentioned something as important as this.

And all he could think about was how he had called him 'young boy.' _I'm not that small_, he thought, pouting slightly. Though he knew he always looked quite young, and was considered short for his age, he'd always hoped his features were adult enough to be seen as a man.

"Oh? That is most peculiar." Arthur said with a chuckle. He reached inside the folds of his blazer and withdrew out a manila envelope. Strangely enough, Yao's thoughts focused more on how he had managed to store it in there without it crackling as he moved.

He neatly lay it on the surface of the table and gave it a sharp push. It slid past them, all eyes fixed on it as it was a prize, until the lawyer at the end of the table swooped it up. Both Yao and Kiku watched as he carefully unwound the string, opening the top and removing a single sheet of faded cream paper.

There was silence, all breaths bated as his eyes scanned the page. He paused momentarily, confusion flitting across his heavy features before continuing. "May I ask…?" The lawyer's eyes rising to Arthur's as he finished reading. "What is this red substance?"

"Blood." Arthur said simply with a bright smile. The lawyer blanched, reeling slightly.

"_Blood?_" He repeated with horror.

"Yes." Arthur's smile vanished. "Blood."

"Oh…" He looked shaken, returning to the sheet of paper. It began to tremble. "It- It says here you have been his guardian since he was two?"

"That is correct."

"You mean to say that you –"

"This is outrageous!" One of their greedy relatives butt in, causing the lawyer to flinch. "No matter what it is signed in, it should not be legal!"

"Yes! Quite right!" Her husband added. "If they had had another guardian we should have known about it."

"N-Not 'they'." The lawyer quickly said. "Just Yao."

There was another silence as it sank in. The man called Arthur was getting the fortune, and abandoning the younger son. It was what they all wanted, but to actually do it? Yao could see the cogs turning in their heads as they tried to see if there was a way to gain ownership of the fortune through Kiku. But there wasn't, and they all knew that.

Yao tried to keep a solemn face, but it was hard. If what the lawyer was saying was true, that meant he would never see Kiku again. He began to feel sick at the thought of what would happen to Kiku if he was taken in by one of the 'relatives.' He looked to his brother, still sobbing into Yao's suit, trembling as he tried to be as quiet as possible.

Their 'relatives' stared daggers at Arthur, who sat patiently, completely unfazed as they went back and forth, screaming at the poor lawyer and snarling at Arthur.

He sighed after a while, Yao having zoned out, the shouting becoming too much, and stood. "Well…" He picked up his umbrella, opening it with a flourish. "Clearly you have a lot to discuss." His eyes became hard. "Yao, have your things ready by tomorrow. My" He paused, his eyes lost for a second as he tried to find the right word. "driver will come to pick you up."

And then he turned, leaving the room in confusion.

...xXx...

Arthur sighed as he left the room, gently withdrawing his old pocket-watch and clicking it open as he walked. He forgot how much he truly hated humans, with their screaming and complaining and pointless greed. Well... Maybe 'hate' wasn't the right word, as they did help keep his business alive, but they could at least go about it in a manner that didn't affect him.

He didn't even know what he was doing, agreeing to take the boy in. For the life Yao had been leading, he appeared far too kind and loving for his soul to be of any value. Upon shaking his hand, Arthur had decided that he would at least make use of Yao in the form of a assistant, though he had no idea how a little rich boy was going to handle himself in Arthur's world. He didn't normally takes risks, especially when it came to humans, but ever since Jones had waltzed into his life, he had started to change, little by little, and no matter how much he refused to believe it, his penchant for kindness was growing.

"Arthur!" He paused, turning to find Yao running towards him. He raised a brow, smirking slightly at the sight of his panicked eyes.

"My brother." Yao said, panting.

Hm?" He clicked the watch shut and slipped it back in his pocket. He never really had a use for it, as he didn't exactly keep to a schedule, but he liked to know he was still in touch with the world in someway or another, no matter how much he loathed the place.

"What about my brother?"

"Ah, yes. He can come too. I'm sure there's room for him somewhere." Yao's eyes relaxed as he smiled softly.

"Thank you." He said shyly before taking off.

Arthur scowled, more at himself than the boy. Really, it was like he was becoming nice or something.

He sighed again as he left the church. Now he had two young humans to look after.

* * *

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